Ring Around The Rosie
by Armin-05
Summary: Olivia couldn't do anything. All she could do was watch as they all fell down. Could be considered Peter/Olivia.


_Ring around the Rosie..._

Olivia rushed down the street. Up ahead she could see Peter and Walter Bishop staring up at the roof of the suspect's house warily.

Glancing up, she gasped and almost tripped. Special Agent Phillip Broyles' dark face stared down at her from the roof, but not with his normal dark eyes. It was like he was staring right through her, and although she couldn't see him completely, she knew that his stare was lifeless, dead.

Peter turned around. "Olivia!" He called, Walter turned around too.

"Oh, hello Agent Dunham." The scientist waved cheerfully. Olivia nodded, coming to a stop beside them.

"What - what happened?" She questioned, panting slightly. Walter frowned.

"I don't know, but I have a theory. The disease has been killing people, but then it creates an eletrical field to-to, to reanimate them -"

"Basically the disease kills them and turns them into zombies." Peter interrupted. Walter nodded. Olivia looked up at Broyles again.

"But how is it spreading? Broyles was fine when I talked to him two hours ago."

"Oh, um, yes-yes, uh, I think it may be spread through physical contact, with something or someone. Was there anything suspicious about Special Agent Broyles' office when you talked to him earlier?" Walter asked. Olivia shook her head.

"No, nothing. Is there anything that can be done?" Just then she noticed all the other people lined on the roof. It reminded her earlier of the time Nick almost killed a bunch of people by lining them up on a rooftop.

"No, all of them are completely under the disease's control, and when we sent a few police officers in they didn't come back out." Peter informed her.

"So that means..."

"Yeah, their bodies are starting to fall apart, and it's becoming airborne."

The disease was horrible, if you caught it, your skin and muscles started to melt away from your bones. Peter almost hadn't let Walter examine the bodies until Astrid had pointed out that _she_ had touched the bodies, and a day later was still fine. So that ruled out it being that the corpses spread it through touch. Plus everyone had been breathing it in, so it couldn't be airborne.

Until now.

"So why are we standing so close? We should move back a block or so." Olivia mentioned.

"Because Charlie is putting together a special team to go inside. Gas suits, that sort of thing." Peter muttered. He nodded at the white truck. "I think he wants us on it."

"So, why aren't you geared up?" Olivia asked with a small smile. Peter grinned back.

"C'mon." He laughed. "Let's go."

 _Pockets full of Posies..._

* * *

Thirty minutes later, everyone was geared up. Olivia, Peter, Charlie, and a few others were about to go inside."Be safe." Walter told them seriously as they prepared to open the door."We will." Peter told him. "Now back up so you don't get sick. Walter nodded, obeying his son's instructions in a way that had become normal.

She ran their suspect's file through her head.

Name: Jeremy Page. Occupation: Doctor with a at-home job of scientist. Age: Thirty-two. Height: 5'11. Hair color: black. Eye color: brown. Had a bad stutter.

Dr. Page had apparently been experimenting with a drug he'd just made, and _had_ followed all safety procedures on testing, by using it on his son's dog, Rufus, first. Rufus had been fine, so Page had tried it on his son, John Page, because people in New York and Boston are just so loving towards their children.

The drug had backfired, and turned poor John into a zombie, apparently using electrical currents, according to Walter. Then the drug mutated, and grew into the disease killing people today. So far, only twenty known people had caught it, but all had been killed. Including John and Dr. Page's wife, Eleanor.

Plus Broyles was dead now.

Olivia nodded to Charlie once Walter was back far enough, and Charlie burst the door open. Olivia rushed ahead, checking quickly to make sure they weren't about to be jumped. Peter quietly followed, with the rest of them afterwards.

While everyone else was checking the floor, Olivia went straight to the stairway, and headed towards the roof. Peter, thankfully, followed. Why she found that good, Olivia had no idea. Maybe it was because they were partners and she trusted him with her life, even if he had no gun. (She made a mental note to get him one, it wasn't safe without one, considering their work).

Up and up they went, carefully checking all stairway doors for attackers. No one appeared. In fact, if Olivia hadn't seen the people on the roof for herself, she'd say it was a bust, and the place was deserted. It was way too quiet.

She heard the others sounding off, "Clear!" "Clear over here." "Clear! All right, move to the next floor. Where's Olivia and Peter?" That last voice was Charlie.

"Third floor, Charlie." She called. "I'm going to the roof. Peter's with me."

"Because that's a good thing, right?" Peter muttered. Olivia smiled at him.

There was only one more set of stairs, and they came to the rooftop door. Olivia motioned for Peter to stay put while she talked to Dr. Page, who was standing on the roof himself.

"Doctor Page?" She called to the shivering man. He turned around, and Olivia tensed involuntarily at his wild-eye expression. He looked as insane as his unintentional creations. Plus he was holding a gun.

"Y-you," he growled menacingly... with a stutter. Olivia would have been mildly impressed if so much wasn't at stake. Not many could pull that off. "Y-you're that officer, t-th-that came to talk."

"Yes," Olivia replied honestly, she and Dr. page had talked before they'd known he was the disease's creator. "Now, put down the gun, and let's talk about this." She took a tiny step forward, and Page aimed the gun at her. Olivia was pretty sure that if she got hit, it probably would be somewhere critical. His hands were shaking too much to aim right, and Olivia didn't know if he knew how to use a gun anyway.

"N-n-n-no." He pushed out. "I-I d-did this. I DID THIS!" Tears streamed down his face, and Olivia felt a wave of pity for him. He hadn't meant to do this, it was written all over his face. "I k-k- _killed_ John. I-I killed him, m-my son... my w-w-wife, Eleanor..." He gestured at the dead people beside him, "I ki-killed _them_ too."

Olivia tried not to look at the dead people, with their dead eyes, and turning-to-dust skin.

Olivia wasn't religious, but Rachel was. She once dragged Olivia to a service, and the preacher preached about how the Earth was created, and how God made humans out of the dust of the Earth. Whenever she looked at them, the diseased and dead people, that was all she could think about, that they were turning back into the dust they were made of.

"Can you tell me how it's spreading?"

"I-I... No. I don't kn-know.

"Hey." She didn't turn around, but she knew Peter had come out of hiding. Dr. Page turned his gun from her to him. "Hey," Peter tried again. "Listen, these people, you didn't mean to do it, we know that, it's okay. Let us help."

"N-no." Page trembled harder than ever. "I-I do-don't deserve _help_. I d-d-de-deserve _h***."_

"Hey, now, don't say that." Peter coaxed. She heard him take another step, now just behind Olivia. She wondered how she missed him.

"No, i-it's not." Page whispered. "S-stay away, I-I know you're in g-gas suits, but y-you can s-s-still g-g-get sick. I kn-know, I d-d-designed the drug."

"But it mutated," Peter stressed. "There was no way you could had done that" He took another cautious step, and Olivia could see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Stay b-back, I s-said." Page hissed, putting his finger on the trigger, but Peter didn't listen. At least he didn't make one of his sassy comments. He knew better by now, not that he had ever said something particularly upsetting while on a raid with Olivia.

"Peter." Olivia said warningly. But he still didn't listen. He took another step forward-

 _Bang!_

Olivia flinched as Peter's body fell in a bloody pool. She didn't need to check to know he was dead or about to be.

Forgetting Page, she dropped her own gun and ran to him, falling on her knees beside him, and cradling his head.

Sure, she had seen people die before, her job was filled with people being murdered.

 _Ashes, Ashes._

But this was different.

This was _Peter_.

Peter who followed her from Irac. Peter who got his father out of a mental asylum because she asked. Peter who _stayed_ in a _dangerous city_ because she asked. Peter who called her sweetheart when they first met. Peter, with the warm blue eyes and equally warm hugs.

Peter, her friend.

She couldn't lose him.

He was still alive, but barely. Tears starting to collect on her own cheeks as he smiled sadly at her. "Hey."

"Hey." She whispered back.

"Don't cry."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

"I have reason to be."

"I'm not dead." He didn't say it, but she could hear the " _yet"._

"I know."

He smiled again, then looked at Page. Olivia looked up too, hate starting to boil up at him. It wasn't his fault, she knew. It was Peter's, but who blames a dead man for their own doom? This time, she could hear the footsteps, pounding up the stairs, Charlie no doubt in the lead, worried about who had been shot.

Page, for his part, looked pale, and shaky, like he couldn't believe he'd shot someone. Probably couldn't. Shock.

Peter nudged her, and she looked down at him again.

"Take... care... of Walter..." He breathed, obviously finding it hard to get airs into his lungs.

"You're not dying on me." She told him. He smirked.

"Keep on believing that, sweetheart." Something inside of Olivia broke when he called her "Sweetheart" again. He'd only called her that when they first met. "My suit..." And Olivia realised what he was saying. Peter had been shot, and now was no longer completely protected against the disease. Already she could see the thin white spiderweb cracks on his skin. With all the infected around it must be highly contagious.

She thought about the rest down on the ground, not knowing the drug disease was already highly contagious. A few blocks might not be enough.

The door burst open, and the rest of the FBI team spilled out, looking slightly ridiculous in their white gas suits. Charlie, as she'd thought, in the lead.

Olivia ignored them, staring in horror as the last light of life left Peter's eyes.

"No, no! Peter! No, no..." She yelled, not even caring who heard her, before ending in sobs. "No... I..." She couldn't say. Not even after he was dead.

She would be to, soon. If she didn't do something.

So she did the first thing that came to mind.

 _We..._

She lunged at Page,

 _All..._

grabbed him by the throat.

 _Fall..._

He lifted the gun, and fired, Olivia didn't even feel the bullet hit her. The last thing she heard was Charlie yelling, and the last thing she thought was of her already-broken promise to Peter. She couldn't take care of Walter, not if she was dead.

She hoped Astrid would.

 _Down._

 _They hit the ground._


End file.
